Where My Heart Belongs
by UlsterCycle
Summary: Ever wonder why Minerva choose to never fall in love? Here is the bittersweet story of love and loss, that defined this great goddess of wisdom's life. (I suck at summaries, but I hope you'll like it! Written from roman pov. Please R&R!)


"Listen well my grandchildren, while I tell of the story of the great goddess, Minerva, ruler of wisdom, strategic war, and the useful and fine arts." An old grandmother reclines next to the fire, gazing at the three young faces looking up at her.

"Grandmother, which story? The one about her birth from Jupiter's skull? Or maybe the one about the spider girl?" says the youngest, her blonde hair falling about her face and in her sky blue eyes.

"Decima Minor, tonight I shall tell you and your siblings about why this noble goddess swore off marriage and love, why she has destined herself to be forever alone." The woman's storm grey eyes sparked with warmth when she gazed upon the face of the youngest child, conveying her love.

"But Grandmother, is it not true there is no story to tell? Was it not just her distaste of males and the illogic of love that made her forgo the needs of the heart?" said the oldest, a boy with tousled brown hair and the same storm grey eyes. He yawned and stretched. "What about the other gods? Pluto, Jupiter, Mars, you never tell us those stories."

The lady's eyes crackled with energy. "Scipio, there is always a story to tell, and one does not forgo the hearts needs, without the heart first being broken. The other gods, their stories are less complex, less real as to the emotions of us mortals. They are more concerned with material things, things purely for enjoyment. Jupiter forgive me, but at times, even the most powerful entities act like children. Although, if you are so exhausted Scipio Decimus Julius, perhaps you should leave us and go to bed." she said, arching an ancient eyebrow.

"Grandmother, please tell us, I am intrigued as to the manner of this tale." said the last child. She was not the eldest, or youngest, the middle child, but that was not what was peculiar about her. Her hair, like most girls of Rome, was a thick, wavy brown, but it was her eyes. Her violent violet eyes that caught the attention of all who gazed upon her face.

"Decima, we can't always hear about your favorite..." started Scipio, rolling his eyes.

"Hush brother, let her go on." she said, glaring in his direction.

"Libera, libera, settle. Now, shall I go on?" she asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Yes Grandmother, yes, yes, yes!" said Decima Minor, bouncing in her seat.

"HUSH!" Decima reprimanded her little sister.

"Now, it was a long time ago, back when Rome was invading the Briticanus isles, far up on Mount Olympus, a young goddess sat, awaiting her new sparring slave..."

Minerva sat on her throne made of olive wood, reading a script from Athens concerning the new tapestry in the Parthenon. The other gods sat around the room in their various seats of power, from imperious Juno, to flirty Apollo, to a rather bored looking Neptune.

The gods had congregated here today because a mortal man from the barbarian isles was coming to the home of the gods to help Minerva study the strange fighting techniques of the bizarre people who lived there. Mars had been sent by Jupiter at Minerva's request, to capture this mortal, as the ever intelligent goddess had refused to lead the Roman army against the Celtic forces without prior knowledge.

Much to Juno's annoyance, Jupiter complied. The goddess of marriage had never been a fan of the young Minerva, and as Minerva's council became more and more important to her husband and her influence with the mortals grew, Minerva's presence pleased the goddess less each passing day.

As it were, Minerva was as strategic as possible. She avoided invoking the Queen Goddess' anger, but unfortunately, the goddess had another enemy in court on this day.

Venus, the goddess of love and marriage was upset over a jibe Minerva had made about a rather sore point, that being the Trojan war and the power of love. So, being the vain prideful goddess that she was, Venus was kniving a perfect revenge. And so far coming up short.

As usual, Apollo began again to flirt with Minerva, once again making life difficult. He had the persistence of a thousand Argonauts, and the brain size of a Minotaurus, of that Minerva was sure. Why was it, that despite her looks, brains, and talents, not one decent male on Olympus or earth was interested, and yet all the rest where? Even Proserpina had found love with her gloomy spouse, of a sort, and men never bothered Diana.

"It would do me a world of good, Apollo, if you would refrain from resighting yet another one of your clearly fantastic poems..." said Minerva, rolling her eyes at his latest attempt at a sort of poem called a haiku.

"And why, Pallas, would I do such a thing?" he asked cheekily, grinning and giving a roguish wink.

"Let me rephrase that statement then. Would you like to bear a striking resemblance to one of your sacred cows?" Minerva replied, voice dripping with sarcasm as she arched an eyebrow.

With a look of shock, the sun god, turned around and began talking to his long time friend and fellow rake, Cupid. 'At least that shut him up. Finally.' Minerva thought. A flash of red smoke announced the return of Mars, and Minerva shifted her attention to the center of the room.

A feral snarl ripped through the silence, and when the smoke cleared, all of the spectators could see an astonishing sight.

There were two men, one standing tall, and the other forced into a crouch. The crouching man was clearly the one who had let loose the animalistic snarl, and was a mortal, one like the Olympians had never seen before. He had red hair, like the setting sun, and bright green eyes, flecked with gold. He was quite handsome, despite his appearance and attired, for he was bleeding in several places, and his clothes were torn and burnt. 'The barbarian!' thought the crowd, gazing in wonder. When their eyes shifted to mars, they saw an even more astonishing sight.

The proud god of war looked tired and weary, and in several places was bleeding ichor. On his hip hung an extra sword, one of which had never been seen by even Vulcan, the most experienced smith of all! It was a flawless blade that shone like silver, were it's true metal could be seen, as the blade was covered in golden blood. The barbarian had hurt Mars!

"Here, take him." said Mars, as he shoved the man forward, making him trip over the chains that bound his hands and feet together. Despite his conditions, the mortal held himself with pride, letting no fear show.

"He is a great swordsman, his skill goes unmatched in his clan. He is intelligent, and quick of wit. He is also an amazingly fast learner, and the son of a king. Or chief. I really don't understand Gaelic very well." finished Mars as he walked over and slumped into his blood red throne. "He fights with this. I believe it is called a falcata. When wealed right, it is phenomenally destructive." Mars held up the strange curved sword.

It had an iron, hook-shaped hilt with what appeared to be a falcon's head on the pommel. The blade itself was large and curved, with a single edge. On it where the word 'Misneach' inscribed into it, close to the hilt.

"He wields it like an axe, but slashes with it like a normal sword." Mars stated, then tossed a piece of split metal to Vulcan, which the god caught, "And he split my helmet with it."

Vulcan's eyes widened in shock. "I'll begin repairs immediately Mars. This is some pretty extensive damage." With a puff of bronze smoke, the god of fire and blacksmiths was gone.

Minerva peered down at the mortal and asked him, "Who are you, mortal? What is your name and where do you hail from?"

"The name is Foalan Bateson, son of Aengus Bateson. I hail from up north, in the Cait territories (modern day Caithness and Sutherland). To whom may I have the pleasure of speaking with?" he said voice dripping with sarcasm. Surprisingly, he spoke in fluent, if albet heavily accent latin.

Minerva raised her eyebrows before replying, "My name is Minerva, though some call me Pallas or Athena. I am the goddess of wisdom. I come from Rome, and I am the daughter of Jupiter, King of the Gods, and god of thunder. You, Faolan, are meant to be my sparring slave, to teach me in the fighting ways of your people. Are you a good swordsman?" she asked.

"The very best in all Cait, so far as I have met, though I admit to having little experience with your fighting techniques. I wouldn't have scored many hits on that big lad who brought me here if he didn't fight like a..." said Faolan, gesturing towards Mars.

"You mean you wouldn't have scored a hit if you fought fair, like a true warrior!" yelled Mars, his pride wounded once again by the strange fire-haired man.

"All is fair in battle! I used my skills to an advantage, and used your own disadvantages to my benefit. Relax fire-eyes, you still beat me didn't you?" said Faolan, looking irked. His eyes lit up again as he processes what Minerva had said. "Wait, hold up, sparring slave?!" he wheeled around to face her.

"Yes, I need to learn the way your people fight." Minerva said, looking the man straight in the eyes.

"You mean, 'So you can successfully invade us without to many casualties on your part." Faolan said, meeting her gaze. " I can deal with the truth. I'm no fool. Don't try to lie to me." His voice was resigned. "All I can do is have faith that no matter how much training I am forced to give you, our spirits will stay strong enough to be you."

Minerva looked a bit surprised at his response, but quickly recovered. "What is the word engraved on your sword?" she asked calmly.

He looked shocked at the sudden change in subject, but replied, "Oh, 'Misneach'? It means courage in Gaelic, the language of my people. It is my sword's name. I thought it fitting seeing as it was the trait I valued most." He glanced over his shoulder, looking longingly at the blade strapped to Mars' hip.

"Mars, return his sword to my chambers. He will need it to teach." Minerva rose and turned to exit the room. With a snap of her fingers, Faolan was free, and he flexed his fingers appreciatively. "Come along now Faolan, we have work to do."

With a smile, the young Pict followed the proud goddess.

Over the next few weeks, Minerva and Faolan fought hard, earning each other's respect as they learned the other's strengths and weaknesses. Faolan taught Minerva how to dodge, duck, roll, and trip up an opponent when necessary, there by teaching a previously chivalrous opponent to fight dirty. He taught her to use anything and everything to her advantage.

"Most people don't expect you to be strong, mostly because you are a girl, and while that holds true on Rome, the Celts and Picts won't give you that advantage. We believe that both women and men are warriors in their own right, that a female warrior has just as much the right to lead and fight as a male. That being said, they still won't expect your intelligence." he said with a smile. "And that could be their downfall."

"I think I would enjoy learning a bit more about your people, your culture and ways. They sound intriguing." said Minerva, breathing hard after an exceedingly difficult training session, her blonde hair plastered to her head.

"Why not, we aren't doing anything else today!" said Faolan after quick consideration. And so began their after practice jaunts, whether it be learning, or some other activity.

They would recited poetry or read epics. Faolan showed Minerva how to play the flute, and even taught her a few traditional songs from his land. He taught her Gaelic, which she learned with ease. He shared with her his peoples' myths and beliefs, and she did the same with him.

Minerva taught Faolan pottery, which he excelled at, and weaving, which he did not. She taught him how to play the lyre, which he compared with the harp, and taught him Greek. She taught him geography and mathematics, both of which he enjoyed, though science and philosophy had a special place in his heart.

The two were rarely seen apart, and along with Victoria and Archimedes, they became sort of family. They became used to each other's presence, and it would appear, everyone but the pair knew they were falling in love. This gave Venus the spark she needed for revenge. She would show Minerva just how powerful love could be, whilst giving her the greatest gift any could hope for. Venus would make the proud goddess admit to being in love.

She worked tirelessly, trying everything to get them alone and create a romantic setting, but unfortunately, nothing worked. That is, till she learned of their love of astronomy. Then, she managed to nail it.

One night, after they had just read a poem of love from Faolan's homeland, they sat gazing at the moon and the stars.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" said Minerva, looking at the constellation of Hercules, blazing in the night.

"Gorgeous." said Faolan, with a sigh. Minerva looked over and saw him gazing at her, instead of the star studded sky. She blushed and cast her eyes down, peering at him through her lashes. His wistful face suddenly took on a quizzical appearance. "Do you trust me Minerva?" he said looking straight into her eyes.

"I trust you with my life Faolan." she said, completely serious. She wondered how he could even ask that question. Didn't they spar everyday, trading blows that could cause death on his part, and quite a bit of pain on hers?

He took a deep breath, and leaned towards her, locking his forest green eyes with her grey ones.

The kiss they shared was flawless, one that happens only once a millenia. It was true loves' first kiss. They knew, in that moment, that they had found their soulmate. They had found where their hearts belonged. Venus and Cupid felt tugging sensations at their hearts, as they too realized that what was obvious to everyone else was now obvious to the couple as well.

Sadly, all too soon, tragedy struck.

They had been walking through the gardens, enjoying the almost-summer air, something they often did, though never before had they done so holding hands, an action that, once so foreign to both, now felt as natural as breathing. The morning was perfect.

Unfortunately for the pair, there was another person strolling through the garden that morning. A jealous, bitter, prideful god, by the name of Phoebus Apollo. When Apollo saw the fact that the upstart mortal, the Pictish barbarian for gods' sake, had one the heart of the second most unattainable women on Olympus, the first being his sister, he was enraged.

So consuming was his hate, his next actions where only on impulse. he drew his bow, nocked an arrow, and release the string. The arrow, like always, flew straight and true. Right through Faolan's heart.

The mortal fell to the ground, life-blood staining the violet robes of his love. His once bright eyes grew dull and waxed over, as the life quickly left them. His last words were... "M-minerva...my love...never forget me...as long as...you...live..." then the light left his eyes completely, and they shone with gold for the last time.

In that single moment, Minerva's heart shattered into a million peices, a sound so sorrowful, not even the Furies could bear to listen. Tears streamed down her face as she fell to her knees, cradling his head in her arms. "Faolan, my love I will never forget you, nor shall I love again, not so long as I live." With a wave of her hands, his body became a patch of the plant called clover, all which had for leaves.

She rose and stormed off to the throne room. She knew who had done this. And he would pay.

"For what Apollo has done, I refuse to lead our armies to war. Let Mars lead them, he won't do too much damage." Minerva said, her voice unnaturally calm.

"But, my daughter, we need you to..." Jupiter began, looking slightly nervous.

"No, you don't. Mars can do this. I refuse to fight against and slaughter the people of my love. I do not hold with you invading the land of the Picts or Celts. Do with the Welsh what you will, but leave the Picts out of it. Because if the time comes where I have to choose, I can't be positive that I will choose Rome." Minerva's' eyes were cold and merciless as she looked upon her father. Never before had Jupiter seen her look so fierce.

"Minerva, reconsider! He was just a mortal, not even a citizen of Rome! Won't you think this through?" said Apollo, who had begun to feel guilty about the whole situation, as he had never ment for Minerva to get her heart broken, just get rid of Faolan.

Minerva gave a high, cold, vicious laugh. "I have thought this through Apollo. The day I fall in love again is the day I lead Rome into battle against Faolan's people." She said, her eyes sparking. She stalked out of the room quickly and efficiently, a shield so no one could see her tears.

~FIN~


End file.
